


1,000 & 1 lifetimes

by sailboatism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Boy Love, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay Love, M/M, Polygamy, Reincarnation, Sad, Wish me luck, Yaoi, also probably inappropriate sexual humor, confused sexual orientation, help what have I done, homo stuff, huehue, sad with a probably happy ending, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailboatism/pseuds/sailboatism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JeanMarco, AU.  Reincarnation.  In which barista Jean meets sunny-side-up politician Marco and promptly laughs in his face over his plans for capitalist-America, then wonders why pouring him a cup of coffee seems so familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude - Ode

**Author's Note:**

> sorry <3

Maybe in a different life, I deserved you.

 

_A freckled face; a warm smile.  His hand was locked in a tight grip around the other’s wrist.  He could feel the strong tendons underneath the skin, beneath the heavy sleeve of his jacket._

 

Maybe in a different world, you deserved more.

 

_The smell made him gag, his eyes open wide in terror as the hysteria set in.  The tip of his boot was covered in sticky red blood, and a scream threatened to tear itself from his throat.  He repeated, a mantra, that death with inevitable._

 

Maybe, in some off-handed dream or other dimension, things were different.

 

_The fire was too hot.  It crackled and burned and ashes floated in the air as if they were suspended in time.  The orange glow that was cast against the darkness shed light upon the ghastly visages of his friends.  The fire was too hot.  He didn’t know if he was sweating or sobbing._

 

It makes me wonder…

 

_They laid among the same bed, arms folded behind their heads.  The room was quiet except for the hum of the night.  The gas lamp cast long shadows over their faces.  Under one thin cloth blanket, their legs were tangled within one another’s, their right ankles hooked together like a bad promise._

 

...in another life…

 

_Their eyes locked together, unfleeting, from across the room.  He hid his mouth behind his hand, protecting a shy smile from the glances of others.  He wondered what the feeling in the pit of his stomach was._

 

...would you have loved me again?

 

**x.x.x**

 

one-thousand and one lifetimes

1,000 & 1 lifetimes

 

“Which one do you wish had been true?” Marco asked him, the cold rain peppering his lips.

 “I don’t know,” he sobbed, staring at the pool of water that collected at his feet.

 

 


	2. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I'm able to post this today! I know I had a short prelude so I wanted to post to show you how this'll go along. Hope you enjoy!

_I was twenty-five when I met Marco Bodt for the second time, ten years older than the first time._

_He was the same Marco—not that I had known it to be so at that time.  In fact, the first time I saw Marco Bodt for the second time, I thought he was a dumb, ditzy business buff who probably had his mother tie his own shoes for him._

_But there had always been something familiar about him, even from that moment on.  Maybe it was his eyes, or his smile, or maybe even those stupid freckles, I don’t know even to this day._

_They say that the red string of fate connects lovers to one another—it even transcends lifetimes._

 

**x.x.x**

 

“Oh, for the love of—get out of my way!” snarled a copper-haired male, barreling through the crowded streets of New York.  As the rubber soles of his sneakers hit the pavement, he tied the strings of a brown apron around his waist and behind his back, creating a fumbled knot.  A brown “The Coffee Bean” hat hung from the beltloop of his jeans, bouncing against his thigh with every step he took.

 His shoulder brushed many people, pushing them out of his way as he ran to get to his destination.  They yelled insults and cursed at him as he passed, but he powered through the sea of city people.

 “I’m here!” he shouted as he burst through the doors of the coffee shop, huffing.  He yanked his hat from his denim jeans and reattached the fastener so it would fit loose around his head.  The male wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans as he panted, trying to calm his heart rate.

 “About time,” his coworker bristled from behind the counter.  “Four minutes.”  Her brown eyes were piercing, and he groaned and chose not to look her way.

 “C’mon Sasha, better than yesterday!  Yesterday it took me seven!”  The brunette puffed her cheeks out, then smiled cheekily.

 “It’s not me you should be worried about.  Connie’s gonna have your ass for breakfast.”  With a shrug, the young man hopped over the plastic counter of the shop, a show of his graceful agility, and slid behind the register to clock in.  The loud sound of coffee beans being ground in the kitchen whirled in his head, but he was used to to racket.  He had worked at The Coffee Bean all his life.

 Jean Kirschtein was an alpha male, but that did not extend past his personality by far.  In fact, he had never really had any aspirations.  There was college, he guessed.  But school never really worked out for him.  Instead, he settled down in the city that he had lived in all his life, and stayed at the same job he had taken in his junior year of high school.  It was all he had known, all he had ever wanted to know.  It was a comfortable life.

 With a jingle of the bells above the glass door, the man was swept out of his thoughts immediately and started to drown in the endless waves of coffee he was asked to make, crinkled dollar bills passing through the customer’s hands to his and into the register.  He could see Sasha wading through the chairs and tables to serve customers, an endless smile on her face.  One of his good friends from high school, Armin Arlert, was behind the counter along with him, quiet as always.  The rest of his coworkers were back in the kitchens, doing their own sort of work.

 It was just a regular day in a regular life.  He was happy, he thought.

 And then Marco Bodt walked in.

 He didn’t look like much to Jean.  He was tall, slender but sturdy, and dressed to the nines in a black business suit and a red tie.  Nothing special, honestly.  There were so many suits that walked through the coffee shop in a hurry, trying to get energized for some “important” meeting that it didn’t phase anyone.

 But there was just… something different.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the male made his way towards the counter, rolling the cuff of his blazer back to rest comfortably at his wrist.

 “Hello, what can I get you on this fine morning?”  With a charming smile, Jean wiped his hands on a damp towel.  The man in front of him smiled back cheerfully.

 “Hi, can I get a large coffee, extra cream and sugar?”  Jean blanched inwardly, as he did every time someone asked for such a sweet drink.  Oddly, though, it was as if he knew what this guy was going to order.  Like he had already deduced that this new customer would want something extremely sweet.

 “Sure, that’ll be all?” he asked, already starting to ring the customer up, gesturing to Armin to start getting his order together.  The shorter blonde was on it in a heartbeat, pulling a tan cup from the bottom cupboards and running to pour the black liquid inside.

 “Actually,” the dark haired man started, then leaned onto the counter that separated himself and Jean, “I was wondering if you could help me out?”

 With brows furrowed, Jean replied, “With what?”

 “Honestly?  I just moved here and I’m kind of bad with directions.  I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to Survey Cores main office.”  He chuckled under his breath, scratching the back of his neck nervously.  He looked embarrassed that he had forgotten already, but instead busied himself on handing off his card to pay.

 “Oh, sure,” Jean waved him off.  “When you leave, go right and head straight for a couple blocks.  When you see the old-fashioned soda shop on the corner, take another right and then the office should be on your left side a little ways down.”  He pointed in the direction, then handed the male his receipt and turned to start adding the extras to the black coffee.  With careful hands, the copper haired male poured enough cream into his coffee to make it a soft tan color, then added two teaspoons full of sugar into the mix.  It felt familiar and soothing, like he had done this exact mix tons of times before.

 He snapped the top on and placed it on the counter, then gave the lost man his receipt.  “Here you go, sir, hope you enjoy.”

 Immediately, the suit in front of him took a sip of his coffee and exclaimed happily, “Perfect!  Just the way I like it.”  It made the corner of Jean’s lips curl upward in delight.  “Thank you,” he peered at the name embroidered onto his shirt, “Jean.”  And with that, he poured his change into the tip jar and turned on his heel to leave.

 “Come again soon!  And I hope you find your way!” he added, wiping his dirty fingers on the same towel as before.  And that was when it happened.

 Suddenly, the man was on the floor, coffee on the floor and slowly trickling to the rest of the cafe.  Without thinking, Jean jumped over the counter with a rag in hand and rushed over to the fallen male.  He grabbed his shoulder and forearm to help him up, asking if he was alright as he did so.

 “I’m fine, I’m good, oh god, this is embarrassing,” he was rambling, his face the color of cherry tomatoes.  He scrambled up to look down at his suit, then groaned.  “It’s my first day and I have to walk in like this?  Oh god, I’ve got to get a change of clothes.”

 Sasha was already on the spill with a mop, and Jean had given the rag to the customer for him to try to blot the coffee off his jacket.

 “I’m sure if you just get a different jacket you should be fine.  It didn’t get anywhere else,” Jean pointed out, eyes scanning over the slender male.  The man’s face was still painted red from humiliation.  “It’ll be all good,” he told him, nodding his head like he was certain.  Which he was, because he was Jean and he was never wrong.

 “I’m so sorry,” the man apologized, “but I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.  I have to get a new jacket, oh god.”  He was already stumbling towards the door, but Jean’s fists clenched together.

 “Hey!” he shouted.  “What’s your name?”

 “Marco,” the man replied.  “Nice to meet you, Jean.”

 “Marco,” he confirmed with a nod.  “Well, Marco, next time you come in here, I’ll get you a new coffee.”

 The dark haired man, Marco, smiled wide, then rushed out the door and down the sidewalk, disappearing from the view of the big windows.

 

**x.x.x**

 

“Close up shop, boys, Mama’s leaving.”  With a wave of her glossy hair, Sasha threw the keys to Reiner Braun, one of the bakers, and left out the door.  The bells jingled as she did so.

 Jean sat on the counter and watched as Armin and Bertholdt mopped the sticky tile floor of the cafe.  They cleaned in relative silence, besides the sound of Jean’s sneakers bumping the counter rhythmically.  Reiner was no where to be seen, cleaning the kitchens in the back of the shop.

 “That guy was weird.”

 Both men looked up from cleaning.

 “Who?” Armin asked, looking at Jean.  It startled the two-toned haired male out of his stupor.  He hadn’t even realized he had said anything.

 “That Marco guy.  Wasn’t he weird?”

 Armin shrugged.  “He was just flustered.  New in town, lost, then tripped all over his feet.  I’d be a little ‘weird’ too, I guess.”  Jean nodded, but narrowed his eyes.

 “There was just… something else.  Something about him.”  Bertholdt glanced over at Jean, then went back to cleaning.  The male raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but said nothing.  Bert wasn’t the kind to start anything with anyone else.  Jean kicked the counter again, then hopped off.  He grabbed up his hat and stuffed it in his back pocket.

 “See you tomorrow,” he murmured without turning around, and left out the door.  Armin’s cries of “wait!” didn’t stop him.

 

**x.x.x**

 

_“Argh, are you stupid?  I can’t believe you tripped over your own two feet, you klutz.”_

 

_“I’m sorry, god, I’m sorry.”_

 

_“Shut up!  Just… Here.  We can share my soup.”_

 

_“Are you sure?  There’s not that much…  Trainees don’t get good rations...”_

 

_“Yeah.  I’m Jean.  Jean Kirschtein.  Get used to it.”_

 

_“I’m Marco Bodt.  Nice to meet you.  ...And thanks.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A first meeting! Hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are much appreciated, thank you for your feedback, and I'll see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work on ao3, I hope that you enjoy! We have a long road ahead of us, and boy, is it going to be a wild ride. I hope you stick around for the long run! Kudos and comments are much appreciated, thank you for your feedback, and I'll see you next time!


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